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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201404">Equilibrium</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereal_entity/pseuds/ethereal_entity'>ethereal_entity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gang Violence, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lesbian Character, Major Original Character(s), My First Work in This Fandom, Out of Character, POV Original Female Character, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Time Travel, Why Did I Write This?, Witch Hunters, aura detection, chlorokinesis, enhanced agility, gay nonsense, hydrokinesis, i thought of this in 7th grade, life force detection, stiricidium, that's all this is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:33:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereal_entity/pseuds/ethereal_entity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The time - 2013.<br/>The place - New Orleans, LA.</p><p>The days are becoming shorter with the encroaching Winter, the nights longer and more raw. Sadie spends them in skimpy dresses while making a living off tips made playing solo acoustic shows in a back alley bar. It isn't until she's approached by Supreme Fiona Goode that her life begins going in a more prosperous direction, though it's one she's reluctant to take. Her admission to Robichaux's is a rocky one to say the least, but from it blossoms a relationship with the exquisite Cordelia Goode found revitalizing to them both.</p><p>Exploring her newfound identity as a witch comes at a grievous cost from the viewpoint of someone being preyed upon by bounty hunters as a result of their mere existence, but for the first time she's found a place which she truly belongs. The journey of self discovery and acceptance is a perilous one, but surrounded by kindred spirits, it's not one she has to go on alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cordelia Goode/original female character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Exordium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi im just another bored ahs fan and sarah paulson simp and this is an idea i came up with like,, f i v e years ago and finally decided to expound. i showed this to a few ppl and they suggested i put it up somewhere for recognition so here it is</p><p>leave comments if you've got any thoughts or feedback! i love you and highly value your opinion. it's honestly my favorite part of writing, sharing it with other people &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>New Orleans, LA. September 8th, 2013. 2:47 AM.</i>
</p><p>Wednesday is another day spent crowing for tips at the dive bar, and by day I mean night because I woke up at 4 PM. I probably got 3 hours of sleep after getting home at almost 11 this morning, but that’s a good number for me. Consequently, I’ve got plenty of energy to waste posing like a guttersnipe Barbie doll up on the measly little stage in the main room. Dressed to the nines in a sleeveless dress and tattered fishnets, laced-up boots hugging my legs to the knee, I realize how intensely exhausted I am while tens of hundreds of men ogle at my figure. None of them care that I’m on the clock while I’m doing this. It hasn’t even crossed their minds that I might be dead where I stand, staring glassy-eyed at the clock on the wall as it consumes more of me with every incessant ticking second.<br/>
It’s almost 3 AM now and I’ve barely made a hundred dollars. I’ve been here 10 hours already and I’m starting to get desperate; I need at least double that just to pay the rent this month and there’s only 2 more hours until closing time. I glance uncertainly out at the crowd of mouth-breathing drunks and exhale a defeated sigh. I told myself I wouldn’t do this again.<br/>
I told myself I wouldn’t because the last time I used my “gifts”, as my grandmother used to call them, for my own financial gain I felt scuzzy for weeks afterward. I could identify every patron that entered the bar as someone I’d dehydrated of vitality the night before. But Christ, I haven’t had anything substantial to eat in weeks…<br/>
I swallow my pride and pull my guitar on over my shoulders, closing my eyes to the crowd in front of me as I prepare to sing my little siren song. I disguise my possibly sinister actions beneath the lyrics of “Gods &amp; Monsters” so that I might keep these pissheads’ attention with the seductive lyrics while I’m sapping them of their natural energy. The plan is to get them drowsy enough to want to leave, but not before tipping me on the way out.<br/>
I look like a destitute punk rock princess up here in my torn-up stockings and tight-fitting dress, spikes and bangles adorning my skinny wrists, and the glowing contusions left of this morning’s smokey eye. I captivate them all from the moment I emerge onstage to the second I step off. Their eyes never leave me as I croon elegantly into the mic and pause to take deep, gentle breaths as I go, inhaling a smoldering golden glow that seeps from their bodies and rises through the air into me. It soaks in like sunlight through my skin and sends a chill racing down my spine. I ignore the moral ambiguity of this as I remind myself that every breath I take up here is another I won’t be struggling for as I walk my weary self 3 miles home.<br/>
The only members of the audience who seem immune to my supernatural charm are the 3 men sitting in a corner booth smoking cigars as they play poker and cast suspicious glances at me every so often. The sight of them disturbs me to the point I decide I don’t want to keep up with this stunt much longer, so after the song’s conclusion I thank my listeners for a good night and dismount the stage. I collect my gratuity as what looks like the last of them egress the building, then round the corner into the hallway leading to the bathroom, unaware that I’m being followed.<br/>
I lock the door behind me and take a few minutes to splash cold water on my face and wash the germs of this place off my hands. I’m trying to shake this random wash of anxiety from my system because it’s chilling me to the core, and when that doesn’t do the trick I conceal it with swallows of whiskey from the flask in my purse. That seems to slow the speed of my mind back down to a comfortable level, so I leave and nearly make it to the back door exit when 3 broad-shouldered shadows eclipse me from behind.<br/>
I stiffen and the breath catches in my throat as I turn to face them, and as their smirking faces are revealed to me I realize that they’re just a few drunk stragglers who found the wrong exit. And if leaving isn’t their intention, then they’re looking for a good time in all the wrong places. I offer them a smile anyway and greet them as I would any other customer.<br/>
“Evenin’, gentlemen. Enjoy the show?”<br/>
I continue past them and push open the door, which prompts one of them to step forward and hold it open for me.<br/>
“Thank you kindly, sir.”<br/>
“My pleasure,” he sneers in reply.<br/>
He reaches to caress my hip at the last second and I take a longer stride forward to avoid his hand. Another one of them speaks up from behind me.<br/>
“You were really good up there tonight. Ya’ got some real talent.”<br/>
“Well aren’t you sweet!” I say with a smile, and he returns the gesture with teeth like a wolf. I pursue the assumption that he’s simply intoxicated and scrunch the bridge of my nose at him playfully.<br/>
The man who held the door for me butts in,<br/>
“Where you goin’ now, darlin’?”<br/>
“I’m goin’ home!” I chirp, “Gotta get some semblence of sleep before I need to wake up in a couple hours ‘n’ do it all again.”<br/>
The third guy, who’s refrained from speaking until now, huffs a laugh and grumbles,<br/>
“I hear that.”<br/>
I reach the crosswalk and realize they’re not going to just leave me alone if they’ve already followed me this far.<br/>
“Nose to the grindstone, fellas.” I say with a shake of my head, “That’s the only way.”<br/>
I make a show of pressing the button so that maybe they’ll finally take the hint and scram, but they just continue to hover around me as if there’s more to be added in our friendly little chat. I decide to humor them for a final time.<br/>
“I hope you guys aren’t jonesin’ or anything because I’m sorry to say,” I reach into my pocket and produce the empty cigarette box I neglected to throw away yesterday and drop it on the ground. “I’m fresh out.”<br/>
They look at it, then up at each other with matching feral, knowing grins before the biggest of the 3 of them lunges at me and lifts me off the ground.<br/>
He holds me with my back to his chest and clamps one meaty hand over my mouth, his tree trunks of arms pinning my own to my sides. My malnourished 5’4” frame is rendered completely immobile when another of them grabs my legs, but not before receiving a sharp kick to the crotch because I was doing everything in my power to flail in retaliation of their sudden attack. Together they carry me back into the alley behind the bar where nobody might happen upon our little transgression and the oaf holding the upper half of me throws me to the ground.<br/>
The impact against my chest knocks the wind out of me and as I’m wheezing and scrambling to get back to my feet, the guy with fangs for teeth incapacitates me with a powerful kick to the throat. I gasp desperately with my lips against the asphalt and I’m pretty sure I can taste blood in the back of my mouth, which likely means if I make any attempt to get up again they’ll kill me.<br/>
“Wh..” I cough decrepitly and take in a large, shuddering breath much to the chagrin of my aching sternum. “What do you want!?”<br/>
The toe of the boot one of them’s wearing connects with the back of my head and I feel my lower lip split as it makes contact with the ground again. I groan indignantly and spit blood, practicing taking tiny, quick breaths in preparation to speak again.<br/>
“If you guys’re lookin’ for money you’re straight outta luck. I only got $16 to my name and it’s all on a debitcard at home.” One of them pins my arms to my lower back by stepping on my wrists, and I seethe through clenched teeth before continuing. “I left it there just ‘cause I had a feeling I’d run into some scumbags like y--”<br/>
Whoever’s got me by the arms grabs a fistful of my hair and uses it as leverage as he lifts my front half into an awkward upright position. My rib cage screams in protest and I join the chorus as he replaces his foot on my wrists with a knee in the center of my back to keep me on the ground. The apparent leader of the group, the one with the scary teeth, leans down and gets up close in my face, so much so that my skin dampens with his hot breath.<br/>
“I don’t know where you came from,” he growls, “but you might as well take your trashy ass back there. We don’t take too kindly to people like you.”<br/>
I cry out in pain again before meeting his beady eyes and snarling into his face: “I’ll live wherever I damn well please!”<br/>
The strongman thrusts his arm forward and smashes my face into the blacktop, spawning a red-violet contusion on the bridge of my nose. I groan viscerally as he hoists me back up and every part of my body lights up with white hot pain.<br/>
“Don’t you take a tone with me, you little skank!” Wolfy hollers into my face, “You know exactly what you are. Just because those other lowlifes were too drunk to see it doesn’t mean we didn’t see what you were doin’. Next time you feel the need to drain the lifeforce out of innocent people I hope you’ll think twice.”<br/>
With that he launches his fist into my face and the blow knocks me out cold.</p><p>§</p><p>They take the rest of their anger out on my body in the form of forceful stomps and swift kicks, then pick me up like a doll and toss me into a pile of uncollected dumpster bags.<br/>
I don’t wake up for another two hours, and when I do the first thing I do is scream as loud as I can. I’m in too much pain to do anything else. Then all of a sudden I’m silenced by a delicate finger pressed against my lips.<br/>
I blink back a film of blood and grime and dried tear tracks to reveal the ethereal silhouette of a woman bent down in front of me in a protective matter, her skin luminous enough to challenge the moon. I stare at her, shocked, disoriented, and deeply confused. She shushes me softly and kneels down before me, taking something out of a pocket in her impossibly clean fur coat.<br/>
She injects a syringe full of something cold into my arm and I don’t even feel the needle; it’s just another contribution to the amalgam of agony my body has become. Then in a trice I feel nothing. Whatever painkiller she shot me up with feels like heaven in my veins and the abrupt rush of positive stimulus puts me right to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I wake up again, I’m in a pristine room, my body surrounded by soft sheets and warmed by the golden sunlight streaming through the crystal clear windows to my right. Typically I’d be terrified waking up in an unfamiliar room, but the whole place is glowing and humming and there’s such a strong sense of security present in the air. Just then, my guardian angel enters the room.<br/>I stare at her astounded, the woman from the alley, and she’s no longer wearing the debauche clothes from that night but I recognize the energy she puts out.<br/>“I see you’re awake.” She says. Her voice flowed like honey; it made me wonder where the bees and their stingers were. I push myself up into a sitting position and it hurts like hell, but I persist before she can tell me to stop.<br/>“I wouldn’t put too much stress on those ribs if I were you.” She advises in an unemotional tone.<br/>“Are they broken?” I croak, watching as she rounds the end of the bed and comes to sit down beside me in a plush armchair.<br/>“Two of them,” she replies, steepling her hands under her chin. “Five others are bruised.”<br/>Lovely.<br/>“Anything else?”<br/>“We ended up having to stitch your bottom lip. The suture will dissolve before long. And your nose is in a brace. Try to get used to breathing through your mouth for a while.”<br/>She speaks tranquilly, like she’s reading the minutes from last week’s lecture on all things lackluster. Where in God’s name am I right now? How is this the same woman who delivered me from the brink of death when I was literally down in the dumps?<br/>“I brought you back last night,” she tells me, replying aloud to the words I voiced only in my head. I stiffen, perturbed.<br/>“At least thank me. I’m owed some gratitude for saving your life.”<br/>I furrow my brows and say nothing in response.<br/>“You weigh as much as a child. It’s highly unlikely you would have survived the beating your little china doll body received without the medical attention I supplied you.”<br/>I continue to frown at her, unamused.<br/>“You expect me to believe your 70-something self carried me all the way back to your…” I gestured uncertainly around at our lavish surroundings, “...<i>palace</i> from Étoile Avenue? Fat chance. You’re hardly any bigger than me.”<br/>She bristles momentarily before reassuming her unvarying composition.<br/>“How you got here is trivial at this point. What matters is that you are home.”<br/>I scoff. “This sure as hell ain’t my home. The place I live don’t look nothin’ like this.”<br/>She was pertinacious. “This has always been your home. From the moment you were born you belonged in a place like this.”<br/>I look around, perplexed, and she smiles at me without a trace of affection.<br/>“Sadie Baxter.” She announces rathely, using my full name and turning my blood frigid. “Welcome to Miss Robicheaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Women.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hell Hath No Fury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i almost quit writing this whole thing bc for weeks i couldn't think of how to write this chapter. my dad actually came up with the idea for the plot. so shoutout dad</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t remember falling asleep but I wake up to the sunset the next evening. I wake up crying. Memories of the day before come flooding back and I get caught in the violent undertow, imploring whoever might be in charge of my fate for it all to have been a bad dream.<br/>For some reason the sobs wracking my body and hitching breaths escaping my trembling lips aren’t having any affect on my injured ribs. It’s as if I’m not even hurt anymore. I pull back the covers and lift my shirt to get a look at my battered body, but whatever contusions might have been decorating my skin yesterday are now nothing more than faint blotches of lavender and amaranth. What the hell?<br/>	I look around the room, suddenly aware of the faint sound of some kind of buzzing present throughout the entirety of the room. I realize then that it’s been audible the entire time I’ve been here, but now I have more energy to dedicate to observing my surroundings; it’s not all going to a constant, overpowering pain. Even now that the sun has begun its descent the room still glows with a golden light, and the air in here is warm and soft and thick like a fog.<br/>	This entire room--this entire building, most likely--contains such a magnitude of energy that my body’s already begun to heal from the physical trauma by absorbing it. I lean back into the decadent pillows and stare up at the ceiling as the melancholy tune of “Gods &amp; Monsters” echoes in my head. I know it’s my psyche communicating the need to immerse myself in it and allow it to restore my body to an inviolate state. But after the altercation with my assailants in the alleyway I don’t feel right about availing myself of my supernatural aptitude. Even considering it feels shameful.<br/>	But what am I supposed to do instead? Sit here feeling sorry for myself while my injuries keep me incapable of escaping this place with its walls are quite literally breathing? Screw that. I’m getting out of here.<br/>	Getting up out of bed should hurt, but it feels no different than the way I did it yesterday morning. Granted, I woke up that morning on the bathroom floor. I glance around for my purse, remembering the feel of it against my side as I tried futilely to evade those meatheads last night. I had all but forgotten them when I first woke up, but the mosaic of ecchymosis they made of my body served as a cruel reminder. My injuries are nearly healed now, but God; if I ever see any of those knaves again I’ll make sure to leave marks on them that’ll never mend.<br/>	My purse is nowhere to be found. I sigh, defeated after searching fruitlessly around the room for what must have been half an hour. That’s alright, I didn’t have much in there, anyway. Just the few dollars I had left to my name and my phone, with pictures dating all the way back to my senior year of high school and the numbers of friends that have stuck by my side since then; Ashley, Leighton, Jack, Henry…<br/>	Tears boil up in my eyes and a few run down my cheek before I notice, and I promptly wipe them away with a forceful swipe. In the corners of my eyes I can see the chlorine color of fear commingling with the dull silver of grief, but I rub my eyes with clenched fists until they’re gone, along with any trace of tears. Crying ain’t never done nothing for me. I didn’t get this far in life by getting misty-eyed when things got tough. I dry-swallowed the pain and sweated out fear, bandaged wounds of heartache and continued throwing blows until there was no one left in my way. That’s not how it’s always been, but how it always will be.<br/>	I cross the room to the large bay window that now displays a murky nighttime cloud cover and look down at the ground below. It’s an 8 or 9-foot drop and then there’s a big iron fence surrounding the place, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I pry open locks that feel centuries old and force the oversized window up, knowing my ribs should probably be screaming at me, but they don’t so much as throb. I create enough of a gap for my body to fit through and turn around, sliding my legs through first and continuing to push myself outwards until I feel the roof under my feet. Gripping the windowsill with one hand, I carefully turn to face the open air and stare out at the moonlit city. At least I’m still in New Orleans. I’m in a part of the city I don’t really recognize, but I bet if I get far enough I’ll end up somewhere I remember.<br/>I take a breath before getting in position to jump, crouched on the furthermost portion of the ledge with my knees up towards my chest. Gazing down at the neatly manicured lawn beneath me, I can’t help but begin to second guess myself.<br/><i>From the moment you were born you belonged in a place like this.</i><br/>I blink and shake my head, shrugging off Fiona’s cryptic words. What the hell does she know? From the moment I was born I didn’t belong anywhere.<br/>I waste no more time in thrusting myself off the rim of the gutter and dropping down to the dirt. I land on the balls of my feet and the heels of my hands and use them both as leverage to propel myself back up into a standing position, and from there I break into a run, heading in the direction of the fence. Without thinking I launch myself at it, soaring up into the air and grabbing onto two posts at the top. I have nowhere to put my feet down so I yank myself upwards and jump over the other side, hit the ground running and take off into the night.</p>
<p>§</p>
<p>	I make it a good few miles before I come across any other people, and hear the first few before I see them. I’m coming up on a corner and am prepared to take a right and continue on my way right past them, but from behind the bricks comes a voice I recognize. I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of it.<br/>	“Yeah, she got all pissed and threw a damned vase at me. Can you believe it? All because I touched on her titties a little.”<br/>	It’s one of the guys from the alley. The one who called me a skank. Just the sound of his voice takes me back to that night; the way his fist felt against my nasal bone and the taste of blood in my mouth. I’m clenching my jaw so tightly now I’m surprised my teeth don’t shatter, but even if they did I wouldn’t pay it much mind. Maybe then they’d be as sharp and predatory as his. And I could use them to tear out his throat.<br/>	I back into an alley I previously walked by and conceal myself in the shadows. The Wolfman comes around the corner and crosses in front of me seconds later, and he’s still got his goons with him. They’re still flanking him on either side, the big beefy one at his right and the quiet other one closer to me on his left. I take a silent step forward in their direction, a cold smile blooming on my face. This should be good.<br/>	“Yeah, she wasn’t nothin’ but a waste of time. She’s probably gonna cry rape like the last one. Stupid broad.”<br/>	I reach out and grab the quiet guy by the back of his collar and jerk him back into the alleyway. Quickly I replace the fistful of his shirt in my hand with a fistful of his hair and smash his face into the bricks at my right, once, twice, thrice. He goes down like a rock. I step on him as I emerge from the darkness and make myself visible to the remaining two. They still haven’t noticed their missing friend.<br/>	“<i>Bonjour</i>, douchebags.”<br/>	They whirl around in unison and stare at me with matching cockeyed expressions. They register the disappearance of their third counterpart simultaneously and then Wolfy bares his trademark teeth at me.<br/>	“What are <i>you</i> doing here?”<br/>	I angle one leg back slightly and kick the unconscious third guy’s head forward until it emerges into their line of sight.<br/>	“Just takin’ out the trash.”<br/>	I look the ringleader in the eyes as I lift my foot and stomp it back down on his friend’s battered face, resulting in a sickening wet crunch. I don’t even have to look down to tell I broke his nose. I’m familiar enough with the sound.<br/>	The big guy’s face drains of color and I watch with a smirk as he struggles not to gag. Looks like he’ll be easy to take down, as well. I return my gaze to the Wolfman as he begins to approach me, eyes dark and stormy.<br/>	“You’re going to regret that, you little witch bitch.” He informs me in a low, threatening tone that rises to a gruff shout by the end. I don’t even flinch.<br/>	“No,” I reply, my voice level enough to give him pause. He stops and eyes me with his eyebrows quirked slightly in confusion.<br/>	“You’re going to regret what you did to me.”<br/>	He starts towards me again but I’m more than ready for him, and I take him by surprise when I shoot forward and close the distance between us. He clearly wasn’t planning on me running directly towards him, and I take advantage of that brief period of confusion by thrusting my arm forward and connecting my fist with his throat.<br/>	He gags and rasps, hands flying to his neck and thus moving away from the rest of his body, and I take the opportunity to strike four good blows against his rib cage. I can hear his insides gurgle as I drive my fist as far as I can into his stomach, then take him down with a sweeping kick that knocks his legs out from under him.<br/>	With him out of the way I head in the direction of the big guy, eyes glittering and chest already heaving from the thrill of the fight. But the show has only just begun. He takes a cowardly step back when I approach him, staring fearfully at my face, which leaves him blind to my uppercut. He groans and stumbles back gripping his chin, then sinks pitifully to his knees after I send one foot hurtling up between his legs. I’m about to deliver the final blow to the center of his ugly mug when I’m struck from behind and thrown into the wall at my left.<br/>	I trip but don’t fall all the way down, instead shooting out one arm to catch myself against the wall. I bounce back to a standing position and spin around, holding my arms up in front of my face to repel a flying fist.<br/>	“You think you’re immortal just because you’re still standing after the beating you took the other night?” Wolfy hollers as he narrowly deflects a jab from my left fist. “What, did ya’ suck some more people dry to patch yourself back up?”<br/>	One of his hands strikes my shoulder and I growl deep in my throat, retaliating with an open hand thrown at his face. I scratch 4 deep lines down his cheek and he shouts, wincing back. He touches his face gingerly and looks at the red impression left on his fingertips. I bare my teeth at him and dare him to try anything else.<br/>	“That’s it.” He snarls, eyes narrowed into predatory slits.<br/>	He launches himself at me but I’m ready for him. I elude all of his hooks and circumvent any other attempts to belabor me. I manage to land at least 6 blows on him before he even touches me, but then all of a sudden he kicks me in the shin and follows it up by sweeping my legs out from under me.<br/>	I go down hard and don’t have time to get back up before he’s on top of me, drubbing his fists into my face. My nose and mouth are simultaneously spilling blood before he lets up, and my view of him is obscured because the stuff is leaking into my eyes. If my nose wasn’t broken before, it definitely is now.<br/>	He pants as he stares down at me, eyeing my battered face like his next meal.<br/>	“You…” he manages between ragged breaths, “you serpents think you own this town. You’d take over the whole damn world if you could.”<br/>He spits in my face and then pins my arms to my sides when I try to wipe away his filth.<br/>“You’re delusional.” I tell him through gritted teeth, swallowing a mouthful of blood before continuing. “I don’t know who you think I am, but--”<br/>“Oh, I know what you are. I know <i>exactly</i> what you are. You and your kind are a plague on the natural world. As long as monsters like you are alive, nobody is safe.”<br/>Thunder claps overhead as if to punctuate his statement. Something about it speaks to me, spawns a feeling of envisage deep within me. It’s a primal feeling, something I don’t know the meaning of and yet naturally understand.<br/>“I looked under your skirt after we threw you in the trash,” he says, a taunting sneer forming on his face. “Didn’t see nothin’ worthwhile. So I used your mouth instead.”<br/>I stop moving. My stomach sinks and takes the warmth from my blood along with it. I stare up at him with an incredulous expression, heart racing. He laughs.<br/>I stare brokenly up at the sky, tears blurring my view of the turbulent stormclouds. Thunder booms again, the reverberations leaching into my bones. I watch as a bolt of lightning illuminates the veinlike gaps in the clouds, and with them my soul.<br/>I begin thrashing desperately in his grip. I never seem to tire, instead gaining more strength the longer I struggle. He tries to keep me still but there’s a tempest inside me now, draining all pain and fatigue and replacing it with vigor. I free my arms and throw the 200-something-pound man off me like a used bandage. He lands on his back on the concrete in front of me and I stand over him so that he can’t see anything but my face. The terror in his eyes is tangible.<br/>I look into his eyes and through him entirely. I see no soul within him. Only a roiling black evil that’s tainted every part of him. Black is the color of misunderstanding and ignorance, of a hatred that was planted too long ago to dissuade. It’s eating away at him, a virus soaking into his being so that it might consume him. When I search again for fear in his eyes, I find that the black has now consumed that, too.<br/>He rises to his feet and stares me down with no trace of humanity left in his face. All that’s left is blind rage. He moves to attack me once more but I sit him back down with a wave of my hand. He gawks up at me, as if after all this time he never expected me to be able to manipulate his body without touching it. Raindrops cut rivulets through the blood caked onto his face and I can see the blackness permeating his skin.<br/>“I am not a monster.” I tell him, my voice sonorous and unvarying as I let the storm speak through me. “You are.”<br/>By lifting a single finger I tilt his head up towards the sky, watching as the precipitation does nothing to wash away the darkness emanating from within him. With steady hands and a flaming soul, I raise my arms up slowly on either side of me and begin to fill his lungs with rainwater. He gasps in anguish and claws at his throat until it bleeds, but he’s powerless to stop what’s coming for him. What eventually comes for us all.<br/>With quickly depleting strength he turns to look at me, skin and eyes bloodshot from exertion. He attempts futilely to speak, but by the movements of his lips I can interpret what he’s trying to tell me. He’s been shouting it at me incessantly since our paths first crossed, but only now can I finally hear him. Only now do I understand the meaning behind the word.<br/><i>Witch</i>.<br/>The spatter of the cloudburst on the sidewalk reaches a crescendo, deafening me to the sounds of him struggling for his last breaths. I look down at myself and find my wounds healed and my skin clear. The feeling of ethereal vitality fades from within me and disappears alongside the rain.<br/>I turn and find Fiona watching me from the other side of the road, holding an expensive-looking umbrella over her head. She isn’t speaking but I don’t have to hear her, either, to know what she’s saying. In response, I cross the street and stand beside her, nodding slowly as we look each other in the eyes.<br/>She closes her umbrella and it disappears soundlessly from her hands. I glance over my shoulder in the direction of where I left the man’s waterlogged, lifeless body, only to find that it, too, is gone. With nothing left to be done or said, we begin our journey back to the Academy.</p>
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